


Through Glass

by exquisitefrogprince



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: F/M, Gen, Introspection, Post-Canon, Shiki-centric, could be shipping or platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exquisitefrogprince/pseuds/exquisitefrogprince
Summary: Before their reunion after the end of the Game, Shiki hesitates to approach her friends.What will they think of her true face?
Relationships: Bito "Beat" Daisukenojo & Bito "Rhyme" Raimu & Misaki Shiki & Sakuraba Neku, Eri & Misaki Shiki, Misaki Shiki & Sakuraba Neku, Misaki Shiki/Sakuraba Neku
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: The World Exchanges With You 2020





	Through Glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmuletStormfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmuletStormfall/gifts).



_What are you so afraid of?_   
  
Was that the question? Or was it, maybe --   
  
_What is it that you want?_   
  
Neither was a question that she’d ever been able to answer. Rather, perhaps not unable, but unwilling. Frozen, watching the world around her from the behind the glass panes of large glasses, Shiki was unable to so much as answer the broader question of what her true question _was._

They’d been asked of her at length, so often now that she’d lost track completely. In the quiet week since she’d found her heart once again beating in the proper body, she’d heard those words so many times. From herself, pencil tapping against half-finished, clumsy designs before they were tossed away and replaced with a needle and thread, thoughts turning to the events that had given her confidence in the ability she had rather than that which was coveted.   
  
Like an echo from a face that had briefly been her own, they came from Eri, as well. Increased exasperation, coupled with crossed arms and raised eyebrows, as the day of Shiki’s meeting drew closer in a direct positive correlation with her anxiety levels.   
  
Seven days, during which she’d searched for answers.   
  
Seven days, in which she’d found none.   
  
Funny how nothing had truly changed since then.   
  
The words returned, then, in that moment before reunion. Breath stilled, Mr. Mew held tightly in her arms, familiar fabric comforting but lifeless under her touch, she watched, standing unnoticed in a crowded square and just on the edge of facing the outcomes of her questions whether she knew the answers to them as of yet or not.   
  
_What are you afraid of happening?_

_What are you afraid won’t happen?_

Neku . . . Beat . . . Rhyme.   
  
She could see them, now, smiling and somehow brighter than they’d been before, in the UG. Perhaps if the phrase hadn’t carried with it a morbid irony, she might have said _livelier._ Yet, it was the truth. There was an ease to their dispositions as they greeted one another, Neku bending to admire Rhyme’s necklace with a small but brilliant smile.   
  
And Shiki remained, there on the outside, with her questions.   
  
Would they turn as she moved closer? Would recognition spark within their eyes? How quickly? Would they question her presence -- would the doll be enough to assure them of her identity?   
  
Did she _want_ to be recognized at all? Would it be easier to turn around, go home, and dismiss their entire friendship -- every precious bit of experience -- as some sort of dream?   
  
What if recognition _was_ immediate . . . and came with something unpleasant? Shock, perhaps, or distaste. They’d never _truly_ known her after all.   
  
They’d known Eri. Or, rather, the part of Eri that Shiki had adopted in a desperate attempt to feel worth something. Even now, waking on the seventh day to look in the mirror, she looked at her true face and questioned where it ended and the memory of Eri’s began. What mannerisms, what personality, was her own? Which was influenced by her friend, borrowed and exchanged like presents, and which was entirely stolen?   
  
A metronome between insecurity and pride; hesitation and desire.   
  
Could they truly know her?   
  
Did she truly want them to? 

Shiki wasn’t certain that she knew, or that she was capable of knowing at all. Perhaps some people were better off watching. Watching, sewing, creating, and following other designs while remaining unable to take the steps to make the first designs. . .   
  
Did that matter, then? To bring life to another’s ideas. . . To remain a sure and supportive friend, regardless of insecurity. Was that not useful in its own right? Capable and calm?   
  
To know oneself . . . perhaps not to design from scratch, but to weave the pieces of disjointed personality and value together into something new and remarkable. A brand new creation, entirely its own, brought together stitch by stitch.   
  
Shiki’s hands tightened on the stuffed animal in her arms, and she took a step forward.   
  
No glass impeded her way.   
  
Another step. No eyes in her direction. 

Another. 

Another, and a breath. 

And a smile.   
  
A quiet cry of greeting.   
  
Trademark headphones appeared not to stifle the sound in any way, and their eyes met across a murmuring crowd.   
  
For a moment, her breath stilled, smile threatening to falter, as Neku’s face remained as vacant as faced with a stranger.   
  
Did her heart falter in disappointment, or relief?   
  
Whatever the feeling was, it was taken in the next moment as recognition sparked, and the smile she’d admired from afar was turned in her direction, instead. Contagious and catchy as a popular rhythm, it spread to her own, and against her will the girl found her feet moving quicker.   
  
Maybe, just maybe, the answers didn’t matter. Perhaps it didn’t matter if she was afraid, or wished for something beyond what she’d received.   
  
Perhaps it was enough to exist. To be known, and in the presence of friends, alive and whole and in a world absolutely charged with life and possibility.   
  
Their hands met, greetings enthusiastically exchanged, and the friends fell into banter as easily as if they’d never parted. Perhaps easier than when they’d been ghosts scrambling for a chance at life.   
  
The life was theirs, now, to do with as they wished, and she was determined never to waste another moment.   
  
“You really did bring the pig.” Neku smirked, hands tucked into the pockets at the front of his jacket.   
  
As expected, and with a familiar mannerism, Shiki stomped her foot. “He’s a _cat!”_ she protested, equally expected, and she grinned despite performed frustration.   
  
Somehow, she got the feeling she wasn’t the only one among them no longer wearing a mask.   
  
Only time would tell how that would affect their friendship . . . and that was terrifying. There was so much to be afraid of happening. So much to be afraid _wouldn’t_ happen.   
  
But there was so, _so_ much more to look forward to. Together, with their real and complete selves. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot of fun to write!! I really wanted to explore Shiki's emotions and thought process before this moment, since it happens so quickly in canon and we never get to see what she goes through. 
> 
> Thanks so much for the prompt, and I hope you like the fic!


End file.
